


Kiss from a Roman

by andybean92



Category: King Arthur (2004)
Genre: I tried to write humour and it turned angsty af, M/M, Some OOC Moments, This fic ran away from me, gawain tries to be a good friend, i took some liberties, i wrote this half asleep, lancelot and galahad are cousins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21750730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andybean92/pseuds/andybean92
Summary: Galahad is head over heels for the tracker Tristan. Gawain just wants to be a good friend and help. But things quickly go south and Galahad ends up in the woods alone with the Woads at his back.
Relationships: Galahad/Tristan (King Arthur 2004)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 80





	Kiss from a Roman

“I'm getting drunk tonight boys. One flagon for everyone vile Woad I cut down.” Bors announced pumping his fist in the air. Another successful mission and no one on their side had been badly injured. Lancelot had gotten a long gash on his cheek which he insisted was from a branch and not the dagger of a female Woad.

Galahad, never one to stay in one place for long, trotted ahead from where he was with Gawain until he was beside Tristan. He leaned forward on his saddle, the sides of his faulds riding up to show off more pale, strong thigh. He turned a sultry smile on Tristan and Gawain had almost burst out laughing at the terrible attempt at flirting.

Galahad was the youngest of the knights and hadn’t been in the company as long as the others. He had taken a liking to Tristan the minute he had stepped foot on British soil though. At first, it had been boyish heroic worship towards the mysterious tracker and his bird. Bors had laughed and made a joke that the surly tracker would run the boy through with his sword by the end of the week so well know was Tristan for his volatile moods and his need for solitude.

Tristan had shocked them all and had seemingly taken the youngest under his wing, teaching him how to track, shoot and fight. In turn, the tracker had become more relaxed and didn’t seem to mind the annoying twelve-year-old who asked too many questions.

Gawain had watched Galahad’s heroic worship slowly turn into something more. While he and the others chased women, Galahad seemed to shy away from them his eyes always fluttering instead to Tristan. The others teased him about being untouched by women. Galahad the innocent they called him. Galahad the pure. Oh, how wrong they had it. Galahad was far from pure. He just preferred the company of men. Gawain didn’t care who his friend let share his bed. He didn’t share the beliefs of their Christian overlords but it was still something they kept secret just in case.

Galahad also kept his crush on Tristan secret but it was evident with anyone with eyes. He was always seeking the older knight out. Tristan seemed to seek the youngest out when in a crowd, always standing by him, shoulders touching or knees knocking. Lancelot had once mentioned it to the tracker and the man had only smirked and asked if the second in command was jealous. But the crush was becoming more and more evident the longer they spent together.

The younger knight moved his horse slightly closer to Tristan's.

“I saw the way you took down that Woad. I have never seen you use that move before. Did you just come up with it?”

He was talking about the kill Tristan had made earlier that day. He had ridden in at full gallop and leapt from his horse firing an arrow into the nearest blue devil. Galahad had almost taken a sword to the guts so distracted by the move had he become. Tristan smirked eyes still not looking at the clearly for his benefit thigh show.

“It is a special move of my tribe. Developed by my great great grandfather. We were the ones who perfected the bow from horseback. It is our tribes main trait. Just like the double blades are yours.”

At the mention of the double blades, Lancelot dropped back at gave the youngest knight a stern look.

“Yes which speaking of little cousin you seem to have forsaken for a single blade and A SHIELD?. Like a goddamn northern.”

Galahad rolled his eyes and immediately began to argue with Lancelot about the benefits of a shield. Tristan’s grin only grew the louder the argument grew. The knights all knew by now not to get in the cousin’s way especially when they were arguing. Their moods were one other thing their tribe was well known for. So by the time they reached the fort, Galahad had launched himself from his horse and knocked Lancelot to the floor. Arthur shook his head and called to Jols to make sure their horses were taken care off and marched off to his offices.

Gawain passed over the reigns to Jols, stepping aside as Lancelot flew into a nearby puddle with an audible groan. Dagonet rolled his eyes at the wrestling match and walked off towards the baths.

“You little shit,” Lancelot yelled launching himself back into the fray.

“You did that on purpose.” Gawain said, undoing his armour to place it on the stand. Tristan’s grin stayed in place and he shrugged, his eyes never leaving the fight before them.

“If Lancelot is so hurt about Galahad not knowing the two blades then perhaps he should have been the one to train him.”

Gawain rolled his eyes and grimaced as Lancelot slammed the youngest knight into the ground. But Galahad was not the small kid he had been when he first arrived, he had trained hard and he quickly rolled into a squat bringing an open palm heavily into his cousin’s nether regions. As the older knight fell to his knees the fight clearly over, Tristan patted Gawain on the shoulder.

“But maybe it is a good thing he didn’t.”

That night, as they always did after a good fight, the knights got drunk. Bors had already announced that he was going to create his eighth child and had spirited Vanora away. The rest, minus Lancelot who was off with some Romans, sat together discussing what sexual position they preferred. Galahad stared enamoured beside Tristan as the older man spoke. It was the most words any of them had ever heard him speak so even Gawain had to admit even he was intrigued.

“First you push them against the wall like you want to dominate them. Hand caressing down her neck to where their chest is ever so slightly exposed. The open V of their shirt always so mockingly tantalizing. The other hand slides up her short skirt over the exposed thighs that they have on display for all to see. Then you press your whole body against theirs, mouth against their jawline as you move a hand to yank back on the curls as you tell them all the nasty things you want to do and they let out a moan of want.”

Gawain at first had shifted uncomfortably at the thought of doing exactly that to some beautiful woman that night. But the more Tristan had spoken the more confused the blonde knight got. The open V of their shirt? Surely he had it wrong most of the woman around here wore the rounded opening to show off their breasts. But then he had mentioned the short skirt and Gawain's eyes had fluttered to Galahad’s exposed thighs. The woman around here wore their skirts long, as was expected from them in the Christian fort. Galahad loved to flash off his knees and thighs but surely Tristan wasn't talking about the other knight right? Then his hardening member had deflated completely as the girl in his vision was replaced with his best friend, Tristan pushed against him, his hand pulling on Galahad's curls and oh by the gods Tristan _was_ talking about Galahad.

“I’m going to take a piss.” He suddenly called out and hurried away.

He rounded the corner and walked right into Lancelot, walking away from the Romans, winnings in hand. Gawain pulled him aside behind the walls out of sight.

“Woah there Gawain you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Tristan wants Galahad!”

Lancelot blinked, “Wants him for what?”

“Sex.” He said through clenched teeth.

Lancelot sniffed before bursting out into laughter. He slapped his hand on his fellow knight’s shoulder.

“Oh boy, you almost had me there. Can you imagine? Tristan and Galahad…oh”

Gawain had spun the other around so they were looking right at the table. Dagonet had some woman on his lap and was talking to her but Tristan and Galahad were sitting as close as they could talking to one another. Even from here they looked like conspiring lovers.

Lancelot pulled Gawain back behind the wall, eyes wide.

“Okay, what in the ever-living? No, it would never happen. Tristan is a ladies man and Galahad is a sad little virgin.”

Gawain laughed, throwing his head back dramatically. “Lancelot. I know he's your family but Galahad is no blushing virgin. That boy has done some disgusting things, he just does it with men and if giving half a chance he would be on Tristan like a fly to shit.”

Lancelot blinked and looked back at the other men then back to Gawain.

“Wait so Galahad….”

“Has made his way through half the Roman soldiers in this fort? Yeah! Twice in some cases. He’s a bigger whore than you are.”

Lancelot looked offended.

“That little shit. I’m the whore of this round table.”

Gawain rolled his eyes, “Great I’ll make sure to add it to your sermon when you die but can we please get back to the problem at hand.”

“Which is?”

Gawain groaned knowing Lancelot would be no help. The man was drunk, riding the high of winning and eyeing up the bosom of one of the Roman’s wives. He turned back to the table fully expecting to see his brother knights going at it like dogs in heat instead only Galahad remained face buried in a jug of ale.

“You were gone a while.” He remarked when Gawain sat back down eyes roaming around for Tristan. As if sensing what the other was thinking Galahad answered.

“Dag took off with that whore and mmm Tristan is over there.”

Gawain looked in the direction Galahad was pointing. The tracker had a beautiful woman on each arm, whispering sweet nothings into their ears. He cringed, feeling the pain his younger friend did. A giggle escaped one of the girls as Tristan lead them away out of the tavern towards his quarters. Galahad downed the rest of the cup, a little ale sliding down his chin and onto the table. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I’m going to retire for the night.”

Gawain wasn’t sure why he did it or why he decided to get involved but he grabbed his friend’s wrist and pulled him away towards the Knight’s quarters. He paused as he passed a Roman guard passed out in one of the corners and he unhooked the signature red cape. If they hurried they might be able to make it. Had he been sober and perhaps not so invested in his best friend’s relationship he would have realized what a stupid idea this was. Galahad seemingly not in the mood to fight back for once allowed himself to be pulled to the quarters, a pout clearly in place. When they got to Galahad’s room Gawain pushed his friend against the door.

“Okay listen! I think Tristan was talking about you. In his fantasy position. He was talking about you.”

Galahad blinked stupidly up at his friend and Gawain groaned, god the men of the Southern tribes were stupid as hell.

“Tristan likes you!”

Galahad laughed but it was hopefully at the same time as been full of disbelief.

“What?”

The sounds of the girls giggles got closer.

“We don’t have much time. Listen just imagine I’m Tristan okay?”

He opened his friends door and quickly threw the cape over his shoulders. Then angling himself so only his back could be seen he grabbed either side of his friend’s face and pulled him into a hungry kiss.

It felt weird, the stubble to rough against his own and for a second Galahad seemed to struggle until he muttered a small oh into the kiss. After what felt like an eternity Gawain pushed them through the doorway and closed the door.

Gawain threw himself away from his friend scrubbing his mouth like a mad man.

“Oh my god that was awful. Is that what it is like kissing men, kissing me? So stubbly?”

“You kissed me.” Galahad announced bewilderedly. Gawain nodded shaking his body to get rid of the feelings of his friend's lips on his own.

"You. Kissed Me!"

Gawain rolled his eyes and poked the younger knight in the chest.

“Yes, I did. How did Tristan take it?” 

Galahad’s eyes went wide at the realization, hand slamming over his mouth in shock.

“He looked like I had killed his mother.”

Galahad fell onto his bed, eyes wide with fear.

“Why did you do that?”

Gawain took off the cape and tossed it in the corner. “Because I am tired of you giving bedroom eyes to Tristan or watching you prance around trying to get his attention. And if I am right, which I firmly believe I am, then he likes you back. Think of this as a catalyst. Trust me this is all going to be fine.”

\-----------

It was not fine.

The next day the knights gathered around their table so many seats were still open from the knights who had fallen in the many convening years. Galahad sat in his usual spot chatting animatedly with Gawain about a tournament the fort was going to be holding. They fell silent as their commander walked in and behind Arthur came Tristan. The tracker’s face was stormy and his dark eyes bored right into Galahad. It felt as if the temperature had suddenly dropped and Galahad shivered under the cold gaze. The young knight couldn’t help but sink in his seat a little. Tristan slowly got to his seat, eyes still unwavering. Arthur cleared his thought drawing all attention to him.

“I got a letter from Commander Goblius from the Fort near Third Marker. One of the traders there said he thought he saw some Woads moving along the wall. The Commander is worried as their section of the wall is still under renovations after a fire that tore through the area. He is low of soldiers and doesn't want to risk losing what is left of his legion.”

"But it is okay to lose us," Gawain muttered under his breath knowing where this was going.

Galahad turned his attention to their commander trying to care more about what was going on with their enemy than the deathly glare coming from across the table.

“Tristan, you and Galahad are my best trackers. Head out there and see what you can find! We need to be stealthy about this so look only and report back what you two find.”

“No!” The sharp reply came and all eyes turned to Tristan who was looking down at Galahad before turning to Arthur.

“I will go alone. I don’t need his help.”

Galahad felt like he had been stabbed. Never before had Tristan turned him away or defied Arthur. The commander himself looked shocked at the denial, his eyes moving back and forth between the two knights and then to Gawain who was clearly trying to not catch Arthur’s eye. He sighed.

“Very well. Galahad you will go alone to the wall. Report to Commander Goblius as soon as you get there.”

Tristan finally drew his eye away from glaring at Galahad, “Sir?” He asked confusedly.

Arthur refused to look at the tracker. He liked to think himself above their childish squabbles but deep down he knew he was just as bad. So instead he looked to his youngest knight who looked a little worried. He rarely went on solo missions let alone tracking missions alone. But he nodded and bowed his head in acknowledgement and with Arthur's dismissal went to ready for the trip. As the door closed behind him Tristan stood, chair scraping against the floor and with a huff he stormed out the room.

The room was silent and still with tension before Arthur leaned on the table and tilted his head.

“Sir Gawain. Explain!”

The second youngest knight pulled a face and tried not to appear to guilty until Lancelot pushed him forward.

“Gawain what is going on between them?” Arthur asked again sternly.

The blonde looked off to the sky, “Mmm Galahad has a huge crush on Tristan and I thought it may be mutual. So last night I tried to help the relationship along and soIkissedGalahadinfrontofTristan.”

Arthur blinked in confusion surely he had misheard. Lancelot giggled behind his hand, which he tried to cover up with a cough, while Dagonet’s eyebrows rose high into his forehead. Bors on the other hand was looking back and forth confused as hell. Arthur slowly made his way around the table until he was right in front of Gawain. The blonde knight grinned but it was guilty as hell.

“Repeat that again!” The commander said.

Gawain sighed, “Okay. Last night Tristan was saying some things that made me think he was actually talking about Galahad. Sexually fantasies kind of things sooooo I dressed as a Roman and waited until Tristan came around the corner and then I kissed Galahad.”

“Why?” Came Dag’s gruff voice.

Gawain looked at him like he was stupid, “To make Tristan jealous of course. Listen Galahad is my best friend, my little brother but if I have to see him practically throwing himself at Tristan one more time or gods help me if I to have to listen to how beautiful Tristan’s tattoos are, or how piercing his eyes are or how mysterious he is.”

He pulled a face and shook.

“So,” Lancelot tried to cover up his laughter. “So you decided the best way was to fix this was to kiss Galahad?”

Gawain went to open his mouth to answer back until it hit him just how stupid his plan had been. Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I would have expected something stupid like this from Galahad! Not you! Dammit Gawain do you really think this was going to work?”

Said knight slumped into his biting his lip, “oops!”

Arthur merely let out a sigh as he pointed for the boys to leave the room. Things were not going to easy. Tristan was clearly mad and Gawain had just put Galahad right in the tracker's line of sight.

“Wait Galahad’s into men?” Bors suddenly piped up as they left the room. Dragnet just patted him on the back.

———-

Galahad tightened his left gauntlet around his wrist. He was going to need to get a new one made, he had stupidly tried to block a sword during their last battle. The instrument had been blunt but it had still managed to cause some damage.

He patted Sasos on his flank, the black horse nickering at the attention. He turned to grab his saddlebags and jumped at the sight of Tristan leaning up against the stable door. Heart beating against his ribcage Galahad grabbed his bags and flung it over the back of his horse.

“A fucking Roman? Seriously?”

Galahad faltered slightly as he turned around to stare in confusion at the older knight.

“What?”

Tristan’s nostrils flared as he looked the youngest up and down. He bared his teeth then turned to leave.

“Tristan have I done anything to offend or upset you?”

He didn’t expect the tracker to rush him, wrapping a large hand around his throat as he pushed him against the wooden door. He gasped at the sudden closeness and the heat of Tristan being flush to his body.

“Is this how it was? With that Roman last night, his hands running over you.”

Galahad’s heart dropped to his stomach. So this was what this was about. He tried to push Tristan away, an embarrassed flush to his cheeks. Curse Gawain and his stupid ideas. He was about to explain that it had been Gawain acting silly when Tristan said something that set his blood to boil.

“Did he sweet talk you first before you opened your legs for him or will you whore yourself out to any man willing to give you attention? How many men have you let into your bed? How many Romans shits have you let fuck you? How many have you allowed to put their filthy lips on you? How many have you taken in that pretty mouth of yours?”

Galahad pushed Tristan away like he had been burned and despite himself, tears sprung to his eyes, more from anger than anything else. He opened his mouth as if to retaliate but he had no words. So instead he made a pained noise in the back of his throat and turned to mount Sasos. He yanked the reigns around and kicked for him to take off. The clatter of hooves filled the space and maybe it had been wishful thinking but he could have sworn he heard Tristan call his name.

He urged Sasos forward as peasants and soldiers alike jumped out of the way some even calling insults behind him. The doors of the wall opened to allow him out and as soon as Sasos’ hooves hit the dirt then he kicked him onwards, pushing the stallion to go as fast as he could.

By the time he got to the fort, he had screamed himself hoarse and Sasos was foaming with sweat. The stable boy gave him a scathing look as if he were about to lecture Galahad about treating the animal in such a manner but he took one look at the Sarmatian knight’s faces and decided otherwise.

“Commander Goblius is waiting for you in his tent. He wants to see you before you head out.”

Galahad said nothing and instead stormed ahead ready for a fight. He wasn’t thinking about the mission at hand but rather about how much he hated Tristan. It wasn’t the truth, of course. He was more upset than anything else but believing he hated the other men was better than dwelling on how much the other’s words had hurt him. Thing was even though it had been Gawain who Tristan had seen the night before, Galahad had been with Roman soldiers before. Quite a few in fact, which made Tristan’s word hurt just that much worse.

His anger took him into the commander’s tent. The man inside was a hulking brute of a centurion, his beady eyes bore into his own as he threw open the flap.

“That’s no way to enter my tent Sarmatian.” He hissed out the last word like the word itself was poisonous. Galahad bowed his head in sorrow even if he could feel the animosity from the other man. He was used to the Romans looking down on him, looking down on anyone who wasn’t pureblood Roman. He knew they even looked down on Arthur for the Woad blood that ran through his veins.

“Sorry sir, the ride was a little bumpy. Do you have any information on what was seen, sir?”

The commander crossed his arms.

“Artorius’s message stated he would be sending two of you?”

Galahad’s smile slipped a bit and he squared his shoulders.

“Yes sir. The other was unable to make it but I will be more than enough.”

The legionary shrugged and gave him the rundown. It wasn’t much information which wasn’t a surprise. The fort was suffering for men and Rome didn't want to send any more. The few soldiers who manned the wall were tired and their loyalty to their country was shoddy at best. From what Galahad could get two separate watch parties had caught sight of Woad scouts. This had sparked worries because the blue ghosts were only seen if they wanted to be seen. This thought plagued the young knight as he made his way back to the stables and despite everything he seriously wished Tristan was with him. He had never been on a solo, tracking mission and had been pretty nervous about it all. The stable boy was pacing nervously in front of Sasos’s stable at the sight of Galahad the boy paled.

“Oh sir knight. I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

Galahad’s eyes narrowed and urged the boy to continue.

“I’m afraid sir that it appears your stallion is showing signs of lameness. It would probably be best if he stays here and rests for a few days.”

Galahad swore, hands on his hips. He knew he had riding the poor thing too hard, taking out his own feelings on the animal.

“I have to head out into the forest and I can’t wait a week. Is there a horse here fast enough and of better stock than the usual fleabags around here?”

The boy bit his lip.

“The dominus from the nearby villa has a good horse he rarely ever uses.”

He looked over to were a beautiful mare trotted to and fro in a large paddock.

“Take her and if he comes by to see her, which he never does I’ll say she is at the Farrier. But make sure nothing happens to her otherwise Commander Goblius will have both our heads.”

The mare was a beautiful dapple grey and she held her head high as he approached. He was skeptical about using other horses considering how their horses were trained to react to their every movement and command. Battle horses were hard to come by but at least the mare look fast enough. So sending a quick apology to his sad-looking Sasos he tacked up the mare and rode out of the base.

The forest greeted him, the green leaves blowing gently in the breeze and on some days he actually found himself thinking it was beautiful. But today it left him feeling uncomfortable. The weather had a clammy feel to it and Galahad couldn’t help but look to the sky. It was grey, not really a shock for the isle but it could often bring bad weather. He growled. Of course, Tristan would leave him now when it was the most dangerous to do so. Squaring his shoulders he shook the thought of his fellow knight from his mind and tried to focus his mind away from his personal problems and back to the task at hand.

————-

Tristan pulled the girth tighter around his horse’s belly. His eyes firmly on the giant doors to their fort. The doors Galahad had ridden out a few hours earlier with volatile anger and hurt. Leaving behind Tristan who was now filled with guilt. The tracker had tried to calm himself, harking back to the meditation tricks his grandmother had taught him when he was a child. But all he could see was the tears that had rimmed Galahad’s eyes. He had never made the youngest knight cry before even when they argued and fought.

“I must say it is not like you abandon a fellow knight even if you have qualms with them.” Arthur’s voice called out in the lecture like voice he always used when he was disappointed in his knights. It was rarely ever used on Tristan but at this moment he knew he deserved that and so much worse.  
Tristan was a person who rarely showed his feelings he had and he had many. He had been a knight the longest for almost 15 years and had spent many of it making friends and watching them die. He had withdrawn into himself with each fallen brother, each month that past and each memory of home that slipped away. It became easier to hide those feelings away than feeling the pain. Then Galahad had joined six years ago and those walls had come crumbling down. The boy had a way about him, a smile that had dug its way deep past Tristan’s walls, deep into his heart.

Then Galahad had broken said heart.

“You are right. I have failed you Arthur. I will pack up and go after him. It is not safe out there alone.”

Arthur nodded and he leaned against the stable door. He knew Tristan wouldn’t leave a fellow knight out there but before he could go as their leader he needed to ensure things were good between everyone.

“Gawain explained your cold manner towards Galahad earlier. Frankly I am surprised at you Tristan.” Arthur continued, watching the way the tracker's hands still at the mention of the youngest knight. Perhaps there was some validity to Gawain’s theory.

“I saw him last with…with a Roman.” Tristan spat out.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, slightly offended at the sour tone his knight took on and shocked at it too. Tristan was his stoic, stable knight. This was not like him at all.

“Have you never taken a Roman to your bed before?”

Tristan clicked his tongue against his teeth.

“It was a Roman soldier.”

Arthur made a slight Oh with his mouth and stepped forward.

“So is it because he was with a man or… because he wasn’t with you?”

The look on Tristan’s face seemed to contort from frustration to pain. Arthur had never seen his tracker so open emotionally before and he was taken aback by it. It left him feeling a little uncomfortable like the world had been turned upside down but he wasn’t going to let up now. He felt a brotherly affection for all those who were still left under his leadership and he wanted the best for them. Tristan turned back to his horse fiddling with the noseband.

“I never understood it, why my heart chose him of all people. Why it couldn’t choose someone more mature, more accessible and less volatile. And yet I wouldn’t change it for the world because while I fight for my fellow knights, for all, of you it is him who pushes me to be the best. I heard you once speak about love. How your mother described her feelings for your father. The way her stomach used to flutter around him, how he made her smile at the simplest of things. That is Galahad for me.”

Arthur clapped his hand on his friend’s back, “Then that is love!”

“Doesn’t your Christian god hate men who lie together.” He asked. Arthur looked to the floor.

“Pelagius states that is a common misinterpretation about the stories and besides have men not lain with each other for centuries? You and the rest of the knights do not adhere to Christian law. If Galahad brings you happiness then take it. Our lives are too short, too uncertain to hold back.”

“But last night…”

“Last night was a test. One stupidly set up by Gawain.”

Tristan blinked a few times in confusion, “What?”

Arthur quickly began to explain. From Gawain’s observation to the decision to kiss the unaware Galahad.

“There is one thing I must ask though?” Arthur said stepping forward to help fasten the saddlebags to the horse.

“If Galahad is the one for you and you don't wish to see him with other people then why do you take woman to your own bed?”

Tristan sighed and shook his head, “Loneliness mainly. Because when he looks up at me with such admiration in his eyes and leans into me after a battle, it breaks me. I have long promised myself that I could take the scraps of affection he gives me but sometimes it is too much to bare.”

Arthur frowned, “Oh Tristan for someone with such brilliant vision, you are truly blind. Go find him, do your mission and find sometime to ask him why Gawain kissed him.”

Quick footsteps came rushing into the barn. The two men whipped their heads to see who had interrupted them. Jols had the nerve to look a little uncomfortable but he rushed forward still brandishing a rolled note.

"This just arrived from Commander Goblius at the Third outpost. He sent it via raven. It must be urgent!”

Arthur grabbed the piece of paper and read it. The blood drained out of his face.

“Gather the men at once. The Woads are attacking the wall.”

Tristan grabbed Arthur’s arm with a death grip.

“And Galahad?”

Arthur shook his head, “He is in the enemy territory.”

—————

The fog had come out of nowhere and to make sure he didn’t ride of a cliff or into a tree Galahad had dismounted and was leading the Dominus’s mare by foot. They had been travelling for at least most of the afternoon. Initially following a trail he had found until the weather had turned bad and now he had no idea where he was so he had spun them around trying to follow his tracks back to the wall. He would wait out the weather at the Fort if he could find their way out of this hellscape. His hair was damp and clinging to his scalp while the armour sat heavily on his shoulder, cold and uncomfortable. A shiver ran over his body, equally from the cold and the knowledge that he was being watched. He was smart enough to know he was being followed, he was no fool.

There were at least four tracking him, which he could easily take if the fog would lift. But in this weather, this was their territory and blue ghosts would cut him down before he knew it. So he stuck close to the horse one handing holding the reigns but close enough to his bow. He had already swung the quiver across his back and his other hand was on his sword. The mare whinnied, sensing the fear coming off him. She was no warhorse and she began to sidestep at every noise.

Above head he heard an eagle cry out three times and for a second he could have sworn it was Isolde, Tristan’s eagle but there was no way. Tristan was back at the fort and he was at least an hour ride away. It was wishful thinking, one woven from heartbroken hope.

From behind them, a stick cracked echoing through the dead world. Galahad whipped around heart beating like a drum against his chest. But he couldn’t see anything, not in this heavy whiteness. He certainly didn’t see the arrow come flying out the fog embedding itself into his gut with a soft whump. Gritting his teeth to avoid crying out in pain, he pulled the arrow from the wound before tossing it to the ground. No more waiting the fight was on. The mare whinnied in fear and pulled free disappearing into the mist. Grabbing his sword he narrowly missed another arrow that had been aimed at his head. Holding a solid stance he listened for movement ignoring the burn in his side and the wet patch it was creating.

The fog swirled and a skinny Woad came through like a demon from Arthur’s Christian tales. The man swung his shoddy made sword down on Galahad but the knight easily cut him down. The man put up a fight but three fast swipes from the knight's short sword, sharpened and cared for daily and the warrior fell to the ground. But Galahad had little time to celebrate as he was tackled to the ground by one of the Woads launching himself from the trees. They scuffled on the ground and he felt the man’s fist connect with his face, black exploding in his vision from the hit. He jerked his hip dislodging the man enough to loosen the dagger on his hip and with two short jabs brought it into the man’s ribs.

Moving the dead weight off him, two more warriors emerged from the mist. With a roar, he launched himself at them. The closest warrior, an older man with long greying hair raised his sword to block the advance but Galahad kicked the man with enough force to cripple him and with a vicious swing brought it against the man’s chest watching him fall to the ground. From high in the tree a sharp whistle came, more warriors were coming and from the left came its answer. Dread filled him as he marched towards the last man and drove his sword through the Woad's gut.

Through the fog the whistle of another arrow as it flew straight into the young knight. The tip pierced the thin armour around his shoulder and into the skin there. The force kicked him back and this time he did cry out loudly. He stumbled back as a sudden wave of dizziness hit him leaving him dropping to his knees. It was only then that he saw the blood pooling around his gut wound. It was worse than he thought. He needed to retreat but he had been turned around during the fight and using the fog to his own advantage he disappeared into it. Crashing through the thick undergrowth he ran as fast as possible but already his legs were beginning to feel boneless and his vision was darkening. Stumbling he gripped the side of a large elm trying to breathe through the blazing pain and the confusion. He could hear the pitter-patter of feet chasing him down. Despite himself, he let out a cry, desperate like an animal in pain. He knew he was going to die out here. Alone in this godforsaken country and without saying goodbye to those he cared for. Without telling Tristan how he truly felt.

But he would not make it easy for these monsters to send him to the afterlife so pushing away from the tree Galahad lurched forward running as far and fast as his legs could go. Branches whipped his face and roots tripped him but he still ran. The blood pumping in his ear sounded too fast and someone was breathing to loudly. He was to tired to realize it was him.

But the elements were against him, his wound to grave and finally he tumbled to the ground. Hands scraping against the rocks as he pulled himself towards the nearest tree and leaned against it holding his side. It was warm and when he looked down he saw red staining his fingers. His heart dropped, he knew this was death. He had seen injuries like this before. had seen the same injuries on Percival and Alymere’s bodies when they had passed.

His lip wobbled as he tried to hold back the tears. Would his brother knights mourn his passing as they had the others? Would they forget about in the passing years? Would Gawain miss his best friend? Lancelot his little cousin? Would Tristan miss him at all? Somewhere in the distance, he thought heard his name called out. The ancestors must have been calling him home.

His eyes felt heavy, head began to bob forward and he began to recite the death toll his and Lancelot’s tribe had taught them:

_Return this body to the earth_  
_Mighty warrior given flesh and blood_  
_May his eyes become the stars, his fingers the trees,_  
_May his heart join the thrum of the earth_  
_And his spirit become the mighty horse,_  
_To run free and mighty for all of time._

And with one stilted breath, his eyes slipped closed and darkness overtook him.

————————

Thunderous hooves echoing through the thick fog cutting through the noise of battle. Arthur and his Sarmatian knights had arrived. They tore through the Woad forces like a flood cutting through the land. The screams of the painted warriors filling the air as they fell and they began to retreat. Unable to take on the extra force and savagery of the famed commander and his knights. Soon the field was empty except for the dead and the few remaining Roman guards. All of them bloody and bruised but glad to see the reinforcements. 

The horse whinnied and snorted excitedly after the battle. Only Tristan had his horse facing towards the treeline where the Woads had disappeared into. He gave a sharp whistle and Isolde swooped down to land on his arm. He rubbed her head, whispering orders in her ear. She nipped at his fingers.

“Find him.” He said throwing her back into the air and she quickly disappeared over the forest.

“Arturios you made it!” Came a booming voice. A large Roman general walked over the fallen Woads, flanked on either side by Centenarians

“I was worried my message would not make it to you in time.” The man said stopping before Arthur as the Commander dismounted. The two clasped hands in Roman greeting. Tristan pursed his lips waiting for Isolde’s call. They didn’t have time to deal with Roman pleasantries, he wasn't here for them. Galahad was out there with an invading Woad army at his back.

“The group was smaller than expected.” Arthur stated, throwing a bit of subtle insult behind it. Any Roman unit worth their salt could easily have taken this number. Goblius clearly heard the insult, a vein in his neck popping ever so slightly.

“They attacked hours ago, right after your man left. Their numbers triple what we have here. And we are but a small force only 25 men.”

Tristan perked up at the mention of Galahad and by the way the others’ horses moved closer they too were listening.

“What of our man, Galahad?” Lancelot asked glaring down at the Roman.

Goblius looked him up and down with disgust.

“Who are you to address me in such a manner. If I were your commander I would have you whipped. Are all Sarmatians this rude?” He turned to show them his side like a petulant child.

Arthur stepped forward blocking Lancelot from reacting. Tristan may have wanted to throttle the man but Lancelot was most likely to actually do so. So Arthur, ever the diplomat, begged the man for information. Goblius spat on the floor.

“Your man left just before the attack. They must have been watching. He stormed in here like a Woad himself, heathens. All of them the same. No respect. We should have wiped them all of the face of the Roman world. Anyway, I gave him what I knew then he took off in that direction.” He said pointing towards the tree line.

“Bastard took the dominus’s horse. Ran his own lame.”

Tristan felt a wash of fear overcome him. It wasn’t safe for Galahad to be out there alone and with an untrained horse, it could get nasty. Sasos, like all their horses, was trained to react quickly, to fight. The horse, like the sword, was an extension of the Sarmatian knight. Galahad not only had any idea what was heading towards him but he was disadvantaged.

Three piercing cries echoed in the sky and Tristan yanked the reins and urged the horse forward without a word to the others. They didn’t need an explanation and sure enough, seconds later they were behind him, flying through the fog like the hounds of hell.

The fog was thicker amongst the trees and he quickly lost sight of Isolde. His heart dropped but he didn’t stop not even when he could barely see a foot in front of his face. They rounded a corner and a whistling noise caught his attention just in time for an arrow to embedded itself in the tree beside him.

“Woads,” Bors called drawing his sword as they drew the horses to a stop. Tristan growled they didn’t have time for this. The Woads were messing with them.

“Arthur! We must engage before they get to Galahad.”

A cry through the fog turned his blood cold.

“Galahad.” Gawain cried out in recognition of the voice.

“Lancelot, Tristan ride to him. The rest of us will distract the Woads.” Arthur ordered maneuvering his horse to block sight of the two knight’s escape.

Tristan kicked his horse into action speared on by the memory of Galahad’s cry. That had been a cry of pain, and fear gripped his heart. They raced along the path cutting down any Woad who was stupid enough to get in the way. Suddenly Tristan pulled up short his heart falling to his stomach. He dismounted quickly, Lancelot doing the same behind him. This had to be the spot where Galahad must have been attacked. Four dead Woads lay on the floor but thankfully no Galahad.

"Galahad!" Lancelot called out. fear dripping off his tongue at the thought of losing his closest family.

Tristan knelt to pick up a fallen sword, it was Galahad’s, even cake in blood he recognized the design. He held the hilt, it was still warm meaning the youngster hadn't let go of it too long before but it worried Tristan. A knight would never part from his sword unless he could no longer hold it.

“Tristan!” Lancelot cry called him away from the sword. Through the fog, he hurried over to the other knight. His face was pale as Lancelot pointed ahead of him. Someone had crashed through the undergrowth, leaves bent and broken. But it was the blood dripping off some of them that drew concern.

They shared a look before taking off in the direction of the path. From the fog a Woad appeared screeching as she brought her sword down but Tristan threw her aside with uncaring ease.

“Galahad!” Lancelot called out again behind him, the panic so evident in his voice and Tristan wanted to snap at him. Tell him not to worry, that the boy would be fine, that the blood wasn’t his. But as they rounded the corner he skidded to a halt and a cry escaped his throat without his knowledge. Galahad sat unmoving against a tree, the shaft of an arrow sticking out like a flagpole from an unmoving chest. His chin rested against his chest and the skin on his face was deathly pale. Lancelot pushed passed Tristan and fell to his knees beside his cousin. Tentative hands ran over the body.

“Galahad. Galahad! No, no, no, no, no please.” He gripped the arrow in the youngest’s shoulder and pulled. Galahad made no noise.

Tristan felt his feet begin to move forward willed by shock alone. He had seen many a brother knight fall. Each hurt like hell but none like this. Not Galahad, he thought to himself. Not my heart.

Subconsciously he heard the others arrive with the sound of Gawain’s pained cry at the sight before him echoing around the space. Tristan cared not as he finally reached the youngest knight, who looked worse closer up than from afar. There was a rose pattern of blood on his side. The worst though was his stillness. Galahad was unable to stay still for too long, propelled by youth and energy and yet here he sat completely still. Tristan's legs gave out under him and he fell to his knees. With shaky hands took Galahad’s hand in his own. They were still warm and that made it so much worse. The illusion of life. He placed a kiss to the hand before dropping his forehead against the top of Galahad’s head.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I should have been here.”

His grip on Galahad’s hand tightened as he thought of what he had lost, because of his jealousy, his fear. He would never get to tell Galahad what the younger man truly meant to him. He would kill every Woad on this island for what they had done. It would not bring him back but it would be revenge worthy of such life. Something fluttered against his hand and Tristan froze digging his fingers deeper. A pulse. Pushing Lancelot aside he placed a finger under Galahad’s nose begging that what he felt hadn’t been a trick. Sure enough, ever so gentle breath, stilted but still there, brushed his fingers.

“He’s alive.” He yelled excitement and hope bubbling forth from his chest.

“He’s still alive!” Dagonet, as the group’s medic, pushed past and lay Galahad on his back pressing an ear against his chest.

“By the gods how?”

Arthur who had gone pale as the aspect of having lost another knight gave a sigh of relief.

“He is a fighter that's why.”

————————-

Galahad felt himself reemerge into his body. For a few painless seconds, he remembered nothing, felt nothing other than confusion. Then the pain hit and he groaned. The sound came out a weak, dry whimper. His skin was too hot, mouth was filled with desert air, eyes caked with dust. Then there was his gut, a dull ache throbbed with his pulse in time with the pain in his chest.

His pulse? But how? Had he not remembered it all ending?

A cool hand gripped his arm and a cool cloth placed against his forehead.

“Hush now. You are safe.”came a woman voice soothing but unknown. “I will change your dressings and let your Commander know you are awake.”

She must have finished her work and left for the next thing he remembered was a familiar hand on his shoulder. His eyes fluttered open and the blurred face of Arthur came into view. Behind him, he could see his fellow knights all waiting for their turn to talk. A drunken smile came across the knight’s face.

“Arthur, what are you doing here?”

The commander smiled sadly, “Goblius sent for us. The Woads attacked.”

Galahad frowned as flashing of memories went through his mind and the wound on his side twinged sending his hand went to his side.

“I… I thought… they were too strong. They used the fog, I couldn’t stop them.”

He began to panic the memory of the fear and pain all to real. Like he was back in the forest, been stalked. Knowing he was about to die. Fog rolling in, the sound of footsteps hunting him. Blood on his fingers. He was going to die. Arthur’s hand gripped his shoulders trying to bring him back to the present but he was shaking, eyes wide with fear.

Tristan watched from the back corner but he could no longer take it. He had stayed by Galahad’s side since they found him. He had gone over and over what he wanted to say. Arthur had insisted he talk first but watching as Galahad began to hyperventilate, eyes darting around the room as if he wasn’t even seeing them was the final straw. He pushed past Lancelot and Gawain who had inched towards the bed with worry. Arthur moved aside to allow Tristan access.

Tristan gripped either side of Galahad’s face and rested their foreheads together. It was what he had done when Galahad had first arrived, with his nightmares and homesickness.

“You are here. You are safe. I am with you!” He whispered absent-mindedly rubbing his thumb along those rounded cheeks. Galahad shuddered against the familiar words allowing comfort.

“I couldn’t stop them.” He whispered but Tristan just shushed him.

“You're safe here. You did all you could. I should have never let you go alone.”

Arthur stood and ushered the others out. 

“I’m sorry,” Galahad whispered sounding more like then kid he had been when they first met than the man he was now. Tristan shook his head.

“No, it is me that should be sorry. I let my personal feelings for you get in the way.”

Galahad pulled away, cheeks painted red, “What?”

Tristan pushed off the bed and turned away. He was no good at this. He was a tracker. He spoke with animals and nature. He understood nature, not other people but he owed it to Galahad and he had made a promise to himself.

“When I saw you kissing that man…”

“It was Gawain.” Galahad quickly interrupted trying to move out of the bed but Tristan was over to him in half a second gently pushing him back.

“I know. Arthur told me everything. I know Gawain did it to make me jealous."

Galahad's hand slipped away from Tristan's face but the tracker pulled his chin so they were looking into one another's eyes.

"The thing is it worked.”

The confused puppy look on Galahad’s face was to irresistible to ignore and he cupped the youngest’s face marvelling at how lively it once again looked.

“I was jealous because I wanted that man to be me!”

Galahad couldn’t believe his ears. Surely he was still feverish or dead because there was no way what he had heard that real. The older man sat on the edge of the bed his hand still on his cheek. It felt so real but Galahad still pinched his thigh to ensure he wasn’t dreaming. But Tristan didn’t disappear. Instead the man took a deep breath.

“I prided myself on not getting close to people. But you are my exception. You are my heartbeat Galahad and if I am not mistaken you feel the same way about me?”

For the first time ever Tristan actually looked unsure of himself and Galahad could not answer, which only further made him feel more uncomfortable so he began to withdraw his hand but Galahad stopped it.

“You? Have feelings for me?”

Tristan nodded and without second thought Galahad leaned forward and pressed his lips to the tracker’s cracked ones. The relief in the other man’s face was almost painful and as he pulled away he gripped Galahad into a bone-crushing hug.

“I am never letting you go again.”

—————-

“I am horribly drunks boys. I am about to pass out.” Bors burped out as he held his flagon some of it sloshing on the ground much to Vanora’s dismay.

“But here is to us killing some more filthy Woads.”

The rest of the knights held their own drinks. Galahad slammed his back before smashing it on the table.

“Vanora another round.”

The red-haired woman rolled her eyes but went off anyway. Gawain leaned across the table and booped the youngest’s nose.

“Ah, would you look at him. Giving out orders. It is actually quite attractive!”

A growl came from behind Galahad as Tristan emerged from the shadows to come sit beside him, knife in hand as he glared at Gawain. The blonde knight paled and became very interested in the bottom of his cup. Tristan wrapped a possessive arm around the youngest, a sight they had all gotten used to especially when they were drinking. Vanora returned with the drinks just in time for Bors to jump to his feet at the excitement of seeing ‘his woman’. His flailing arms sent the drinks to the floor, beer and wine soaking into the cobblestones. 

"You giant oath." Lancelot cried launching himself at the drunken Bors knocking him to the floor.

Hot breath came on Galahad’s neck as a hand pulled him closer to the tracker’s strong body. Fluttering kisses to the back of his neck and Galahad automatically moved aside to allow for better access. Tristan’s other hand slide around him and gripped him causing the younger knight to let out a strangled noise.

“Shall we take this to our bed?” The sultry voice asked behind him. Galahad just nodded unable to say anything and as the tracker pulled him to his feet to whisk him out the tavern Galahad marvelled at his luck. How far they had come, once he had dreamed of this. All it had taken was him almost dying. But he had been given a second chance in life and he wasn’t ruining this one.

Now all he had to do was ask Tristan to slam his against a wall and fulfill the tracker's fantasies.


End file.
